Runaway
by Blonde-And-Quirky
Summary: The 8 year old princess Elsa wants a better life where she doesn't have to conceal her powers. She is as ready to run away as anybody. But will good memories, a loving hand, and insight on what life would be like for her family without her coax her to stay at the castle? I mean, she never sees Anna the one she loves the most. So is it worth staying? Just a one shot.


She silently crept through the darkness of the grand halls, her platinum blonde hair trailing through the air behind her. The small girl held a suitcase in each gloved hand. The battered wooden doors of the castle kitchen let her peek into the room. Night still hung onto Arendelle, giving cooking appliances and tools an eerie quality. She slowly opened an oak cabinet, and cringed when the unoiled hinges made a low squeak. A hand-weaved basket sat untouched on the self, covered in a thick layer of dust. She pulled it out slowly, the bottom scratching the oak wood of the shelf. She draped the inside with a deep red cloth. An 8 year old Elsa was running away.

She gathered as much food as she could into the basket, the majority of them her mama's vanilla cakes. Her mama had always made her those cakes and brought them to her in her room.

She remembered how she would be sitting on her bed, staring up at her ocean blue canopy. The sheets were almost always covering her, since her wintry room was frozen over. Her sheets and quilt matched everything else in her room.

_Blue_. Her favorite color. The color of her eyes. The color of her dress. The color of everything surrounding her.

Then, the frame of her door would make a cracking sound, and shards of ice that had frozen it over would cascade on the iced over floor, sliding over and scratching the ice in all directions. The wooden door crushed the ice floor, revealing her wet, matted carpet that had once been the only floor. The warmth and vanilla smell of her mama's cakes infiltrated the dark icy biome that Elsa shut herself in. Her mama slid gracefully across the floor to Elsa's blue bed. She'd set the big red plate on the blue quilt, wrinkling the material that gathered around it. The scent would waft into Elsa's nose, her eyes big and her mouth watering.

Her mama's sweet smile would coax a feeble, "Thank you, mama," out of her. She stuffed her face with these cakes whenever she could. These cakes meant more to her than food could to anyone. They brought her a visitor. The only visitor she ever wanted.

So her mom would leave the plate on her bedside table and leave, the door cracking against the ice that once bound it closed. The soft cakes cooled down, threatening to freeze. Elsa picked them up and ate them quickly, worried that she would cover them in a layer of frost. But even surrounded by things covered in snow and freezing to the touch, her mama's cakes could only warm her heart.

So after she piled in the vanilla cakes, she piled in everything else she had liked. Lastly, she folded the ends of the red cloth over the food and picked up the basket by its handle, frost creeping toward the main part of the basket. She dropped the basket, letting the ends of the cloth unfold and fly off from the top of the food. Bakers gloves sat on the counter, thrown there haphazardly. The young princess ran over to them and pulled them on. Her hands were still cold, but her powers were concealed. Elsa picked up the basket again and pushed open the marked wooden door.

She was met by a tall, thin frame that loomed over her, and made her feel small. The crown on her head was unmistakable. It was her mother standing there, shoulders back, head high, hands folded briskly behind her back. The queen sank to her knees and her royal posture faded. Her green skirt rumpled into folds of silky fabric.

"Elsa dear, what are doing?" Her words were soft and low, but there was still a motherly kindness to them.

"Oh, mama!" Elsa flung her arms around her mom's shoulders. "Mama, I want to run away! I can't see Anna anymore, and she doesn't remember anything we ever did together! I'm only ever lying to her. I don't want to live this way." Tears streamed down Elsa's pale face. Her eyes reddened.

"Elsa. You can't run away. Even if you can't see her, your sister still needs you. Even if you never open the door, she still knocks. You can't run away, and just stop her hope that one day, you might open that door. And Elsa, I know it's hard for you now, but maybe one day, when it's safe, you can open that door. Now put that basket down and go back to bed."

Elsa dropped the basket and ran down the hall, her footsteps echoing softer and softer. The queen still kneeled in the hallway, the basket of food right in front of her. She thought about what would happen if Elsa did run away.

_I mean, it's not a_ terrible _idea._


End file.
